


i can't swim (but i'm not sinking)

by seren_ccd



Series: satellite racing [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: M/M, minor abuse of john grisham, well this happened again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: Sonny went back to the case file, making notes along the way and felt beyond grateful that he’d already been cold-cocked in the line of duty by another cop,  because there was no way that God and the universe would screw around with him after that.  Right?  The universe disagreed with him a week later. Pre-Barisi UST and undercover shenanigans.





	i can't swim (but i'm not sinking)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, my hand slipped. Again. I hope you enjoy! Title is from 'Electric Bones' by Findlay.

Sonny stared at the picture in front of him.  

He blinked once.  Then again.  And then squeezed his eyes shut, but when he reopened them, there it still was, a perfect Kodak moment of former Captain Cragen holding a monkey that had been smuggled inside of a basketball.

“And I thought that damn Pomeranian was bad,” Sonny muttered.  

To be fair, he hadn’t gone looking for SVU’s weirdest cases, he’d needed to look up some case notes around importing stolen goods and this case had been at the top of the list.  The more he read though, the more he realized this case had more than just the infamous monkey in a basketball.  It also had the moment where Lieutenant Benson had to pretend to be a prostitute to keep from blowing her partner’s cover. As he read through her and her partner’s statements, he felt the secondhand embarrassment linger on the page from nearly twenty years ago. 

“Jesus,” Sonny said and did his best not to think about what that had been like for them.  ‘Mortifying’ was the first word that popped into his mind; which was followed swiftly by ‘awkward’.

When he read about Detective Stabler being shot, the embarrassment transitioned into concern and he had to put the case file down to rub his eyes. 

_This job_ , he thought. _Dodging bullets in between the lies and goddamn exotic animals._

He chuckled to himself and went back to the case file, making notes along the way and felt beyond grateful that he’d already been cold-cocked in the line of duty by another cop, there was no way that God and the universe would screw around with him after that. Right?

What was it they said about not jinxing yourself?

* * *

Rafael walked along the street, hunched slightly against the chill wind, his attention focused primarily on his phone where a message from Rita cancelling their bi-monthly dinner had just come through. He rolled his eyes and texted back his displeasure at making an entirely wasted trip all the way to the Village, of all places, simply because Rita had had a craving for something ‘different’, only for her to cancel at the very last minute to attend some other dinner.

 **Rafael:** You realize that you’ve stranded me in the Village.

 **Rita:** Suck it up. Find a bar with overpriced cocktails. Get one with a little umbrella in it and let some delicious boy with a man-bun and long fingers take you home.

 **Rafael:** You’re a terrible friend.

The answer to that was a quick succession of emojis that had no meaning whatsoever and were designed to rile up Rafael’s aversion to anything less than perfect grammar.

“Man-bun,” he muttered and he ducked into the first bar that seemed respectable and more upscale than the others that lined the streets.

He blinked in the dim light and made his way past other men in suits towards the bar, pausing when he noticed a familiar lean figure idly drawing tiny circles on his glass.

He chuckled under his breath. “Long fingers, Christ.”

Rafael didn’t mind admitting, to himself at least, that Detective Carisi had grown on him in the last few years. The man was smart, dedicated, compassionate (possibly to a fault), and most certainly not hard to look at. Something about the long lines of that man spoke to Rafael in such a visceral way he was often taken aback when he saw Carisi stretched out at his desk or loping down the hallway towards him.

 _Like an adolescent wolf cub,_ Rafael thought as he headed towards the bar, his eyes still on Carisi’s figure. _Did he do something to his hair?_

“Run out of bars in Manhattan that would cater to you?” he asked propping his arm on the bar. “Or do you often cruise the Village on a Thursday night?”

Carisi’s eyes widened as he looked over with something like panic, before he muttered, “Monkey in a damn basketball.” He cleared his throat, and smiled, somewhat blandly as he said, “I think you have the wrong person. Much to my dismay.”

Awareness struck Rafael in the chest as he stared at Carisi, taking in the artfully sculpted hair and the suit that fit just a bit too well.

 _Shit_ , he thought. _He’s undercover. I knew that his hair looked different._

“My apologies,” Rafael said shaking his head a little. “You look like a friend of mine.”

Carisi lifted his eyebrows. “A friend? A good one, I hope.”

 _Good Lord,_ Rafael thought. _So he_ can _lose the accent. Well, well, well._

“There’s a fair amount of potential there for it,” Rafael said, the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself. “Again, I apologize. I’ll leave you be.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” Carisi said shifting on his bar stool. “Please. Join me. Unless you have somewhere to be…”

Rafael studied him for a moment and decided that there was no way in hell Carisi would ever place him in danger and wouldn’t have made the offer to remain if he hadn’t been in control of whatever it was he was doing. So, Rafael nodded.

“I have nowhere to be, actually,” he said taking a seat and breathing in Carisi’s cologne, something darker and spicier than the man usually wore. “In fact, I’ve just been summarily ditched by a friend.”

“Some friend,” Carisi said.

“She got a better offer,” Rafael said with a minor shrug.

“That can’t possibly be true,” Carisi said with a smile that declared just how much he knew what he’d just uttered was a line, but hey, what can you do? “Let me buy you a drink.”

“You don’t…” Rafael’s voice trailed off when Carisi lightly touched the back of his hand with his fingertips, even as he flagged the bartender down with his other hand. Carisi had never touched him before, Rafael was sure of it. Or if he had, it had never been like this: deliberately gentle but with…intent. It threw Rafael and he stared at Carisi while he ordered a Scotch for Rafael and a refill of his own club soda.

“I don’t even know your name,” Rafael said, as Carisi’s fingers slid off his hand.

Carisi smiled. “Simon. And yourself?”

“Ramón,” Rafael said as he held out his hand. 

“Very nice to meet you, Ramón,” Carisi said taking hold of Rafael’s hand with a spark in his eyes and the slightest of wry quirks to his mouth. “Should I be completely predictable and ask what it is you do, when not being stranded all by yourself in the Village?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Rafael said taking a sip of his Scotch and relishing the burn as well as the slight widening of Carisi’s eyes. He smirked, knowing full well that the other man was worried about what he’d say next. He decided to be merciful. “Tax law, not the fancy stuff you see on television.”

“Surely it has its own rewards?” Carisi asked, matching Rafael’s smirk with his own.

“It has its moments,” he replied. “And yourself? What is it you do, Simon?”

“Tourism,” Carisi said with broad grin. “I know this city like the back of my hand and I’m a very good tour guide.”

“I see,” Rafael said, fighting back yet another smirk. “I have to admit, I grew up in the Bronx, there’s not much of this city I haven’t seen.”

“Try me,” Carisi said. His tone was light, but his stare was anything but; Rafael felt attraction curl up in his stomach and did his best to hide the effect of Carisi’s look with another sip of his drink.

“Perhaps,” he said after a long, heavy moment. “Tell me a favorite spot of yours.”

“Hmm,” Carisi said rubbing his chin lightly. “There’s a park, not too far from here, actually. It’s this private little square that only the locals know.” He leaned forward and Rafael found himself doing the same. “Filled with honest to goodness fruit trees.”

Rafael blinked. “Fruit trees? In the city?”

“Fig, apple, cherry, lemon, even a mango tree,” Carisi said grinning. “Don’t know what they’ve put in the ground, but they’re there. Best smelling park in the five boroughs.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Rafael said taking a sip of his drink.

“Or I could show you some time,” Carisi said, far too casually.

Rafael shot him a look and the damn man just winked. A little too flirtatiously to be a true Carisi move and Rafael figured it to be more in line with what ‘Simon’ might do.

“Maybe so,” Rafael murmured, eyeing Carisi. 

“I imagine being a lawyer takes up a lot of your time,” Carisi said. “Must be hard to find down time.”

“You could say that,” Rafael said smiling down at his drink knowing full well that Carisi had the exact same problem.

“Can I confess something?” Carisi asked, leaning forward again.

“Oh, please do,” Rafael said, playing along as he smiled. “But do keep in mind, I’m not that kind of lawyer.”

Carisi grinned, a true, wild Sonny Carisi grin, before it shifted back into the smoother ‘Simon’ version. “I entertained becoming a lawyer once.”

“Is that right?” Rafael said, holding back his own grin.

“And, I’m afraid to say, it was completely John Grisham’s fault.”

Rafael groaned, he couldn’t help it. “Oh, of course it was.”

Carisi chuckled and patted Rafael’s thigh consolingly. “How did I know I’d get that reaction?”

“Because you’re a relatively intelligent person who clearly knows that what he wrote was mostly show rather than reality,” Rafael said ignoring the thrill that still raced up his spine at the feel of Carisi’s hand on his thigh.

“You think I’m relatively intelligent?” Carisi asked, his mouth curving up in ways that gave Rafael far too many ideas. “That’s very generous of you, Ramón. We just met.”

“I have a good feeling about you,” Rafael said, quickly taking a drink and avoiding Carisi’s far too blue eyes. He cleared his throat. “So which one was it that sucked you in? _The Firm_? _A Time to Kill_? Or wait, the one where they take on the insurance companies?”

Carisi laughed a little and ducked his head. “ _The Pelican Brief_.”

“Ah, yes,” Rafael said. “I should’ve known. Who did you identify with more? Denzel Washington as the sharp reporter, or Julia Roberts, the precocious law student?” 

“Are you kidding me?  You see this jawline?” Carisi ran a hand along his jaw. “Julia Roberts, all the way.”

Rafael snorted.  “Fair point. You’d make a very pretty law student.”

“Would I?” Carisi asked, a little breathlessly and Rafael felt his chest constrict with the desire to hear his voice like that in a completely different setting. Like his bedroom, or his couch, or his god damn office desk, or…someplace real.

Rafael felt his face fall a little as he looked down into his drink. “Yeah,” he said before he looked back up at Carisi. “You would. Simon.”

Carisi blinked and then nodded slowly. “I’ll take it,” he said. He glanced at Rafael’s drink. “Get you another?”

“I think I should probably –”

“Excuse me, Simon?” The bartender interrupted them and they looked over. She smiled a little, “Sorry, fellas, but Simon, they’re ready to see you now.”

“Oh, thank you, Callie,” Carisi said with a smile. He glanced back at Rafael and mock-whispered, “I’m here for an interview. Wish me luck?”

“I highly doubt you’ll need it,” Rafael managed to reply even as the full implications of what Carisi was up to truly hit him. “But good luck.”

Carisi hesitated, then he pulled a pen out of his jacket and grabbed Rafael’s napkin to scribble something on it. “Look, if you’re ever interested in seeing those fruit trees or telling me more about how John Grisham is the bane of the law community… Give me a text.”

He slid the napkin back to Rafael with a look and then held out his hand. “It was very nice to meet you, Ramón.”

“Likewise, Simon,” Rafael said, stuffing the napkin into his inner pocket and taking Carisi’s hand. He squeezed it, perhaps harder than he meant to, as he said, “Be, uh, safe.”

Carisi’s expression softened for the smallest of seconds, before it smoothed out. “Oh, always.”

He let go of Rafael’s hand and sauntered, ( _no loping here_ , Rafael thought absently) towards a man and a woman at the other end of the bar, near a door that led to the back. Carisi smiled and offered his hand to them both. The woman tilted her head to the side before she stroked the side of Carisi’s face with her index finger. Carisi laughed and nodded at whatever she said. 

An ache in his hand alerted Rafael to the fact that he’d been gripping his glass far too tightly. He necked the rest of his drink and took out some cash, left a decent-sized tip, and then left the bar.

He didn’t look back at Carisi.

Once outside, he started walking fast, into the autumn wind that had picked up again. He hailed the first taxi he saw and gave the driver his apartment address. For several moments, he just stared out the window. Then he pulled out the napkin Carisi had scribbled on and read the message.

In barely decipherable script it read: **GO. Call lieu, tell her we met. GET HOME SAFE.**

Rafael tucked the napkin back into his jacket and got out his phone to text Liv.

 **Rafael:** Just ran into Carisi while he was UC.

 **Liv:** Crap. Did you blow his cover?

 **Rafael:** I’m offended, and no, I didn’t. I don’t think. Which case is this?

 **Liv:** Good. The Adams case. Not sure if there’s anything to it. Sent Carisi in to check it out. 

Rafael thought for a moment. The Adams case… Right, the one with where the victim had accused a male escort of assault and had been sure that he’d also been casing her apartment. They didn’t have much evidence to support grand larceny, but appeared to be giving it a try.

If he hadn’t seen it up close and very personal, Rafael wasn’t sure he’d have believed that Dominick ‘Call me Sonny’ Carisi Jr could play the part of a convincing male escort.

But he had.

His phone vibrated with another message from Liv.

 **Liv:** How’d he seem?

Rafael paused. How did he seem? He rubbed his jaw. He’d seemed…polished. Smooth. Verging on urbane and, dare he say it, sensual. In other words: nothing like Carisi at all. 

Attractive, yes. Deeply so. But…not what Rafael wanted; and Christ, wasn’t that something that bore further consideration?

“Shit,” Rafael muttered, but he answered Liv’s text.

 **Rafael:** Very charming. Therefore, not at all like himself.

 **Liv:** That’s sort of the point. Where are you now?

 **Rafael:** Headed home. Let me know if you need warrants.

Liv texted back a thumbs up and Rafael turned his direction back to the passing scenery, his thoughts centered firmly on the feel of light, sure fingertips on his hand.

* * *

Sonny glared at the printer and fought the urge to kick it. Again. The last week had been absorbed into the Adams case which, after his little fishing expedition into the world of male escorts, had not only found multiple assault victims among clients as well as employees, but also several cases of identity theft, robbery and grand larceny.

In other words: paperwork for a month.

“Come on,” he said, utterly done with the machine as well as his own thoughts about the time he’d spent undercover. Thoughts that weren’t just about the things he’d seen, the statements from victims he’d taken, or the lines he’d used with the perps. 

No, most of his thoughts spun round and round a certain fifteen minutes spent with a certain ADA. Fifteen thrilling, charged minutes where he’d had the chance to be the smooth, charming man that someone like Rafael Barba surely went for. Fifteen minutes where Sonny got to feel what it was like to flirt with the man with actual intent.

Fifteen minutes where Sonny was completely sure he’d made a total fool of himself.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself as he smacked the side of the printer. It ground sharply, then spit out his papers; Sonny rolled his eyes at it. “Yeah, and you’re a piece of crap.”

“Anthropomorphizing the office equipment, detective?” a wonderfully familiar voice said behind him. “Is it that kind of a day?”

Sonny swallowed back his nerves and laughed a little, gathering the papers as he replied, “That kind of a week, actually. Half of this is going to your desk eventually, though, so, you know… Be nice, counselor.”

“Never.”

Sonny turned around at that to find Barba grinning ever so slightly at him. Sonny snorted and nodded. “What brings you by?”

“Update on plea deals for Liv,” Barba said. “Don’t worry, they won’t be taken. You did good work. I have more than enough evidence to prosecute them all.”

“Well, go team,” Sonny said grinning back. “Almost makes drowning myself in a Drakkar Noir knock-off for a week worth it.”

“Is that what that scent was?” Barba asked, arching an eyebrow. “I couldn’t quite place it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Sonny said rubbing the back of his neck. “One of the guys here in the precinct keeps it in his locker for date night. He loaned it to me when I got the word I had to hit the bars.” He winced. “It was awful, wasn’t it? The cologne?”

Barba shook his head. “No, it wasn’t bad. Just…not for you.”

 _Ain’t that the frickin’ truth?_ Sonny thought. _Not for me. Story of my life with this man._

“Yeah, uh, that’s what I thought,” Sonny said staring down at the papers in his hand. “Well, better get back to this, if you want to keep up that winning streak of yours.”

“Much appreciated,” Barba said sounding amused.

Sonny nodded and headed back to his desk, noticing that Amanda was kicking the vending machine again in the hallway. Sonny dropped into his desk chair and laid out the papers in front of him. He paused when Barba followed him and perched a hip on the edge of Sonny’s desk. He blinked and looked up at him.

“Something I do for you, counselor?” he asked leaning back in his chair.

“Just one question to clarify one of the statements,” Barba said.

Sonny shrugged. “Shoot.”

“I’ve heard, and said, my fair share of euphemisms,” Barba said, “but I have to say ‘monkey in a damn basketball’ utterly escapes me.”

Sonny stared at him before barking out a laugh that had Amanda glancing over at him from where she waged war with the Coke machine. He waved a hand at her before scrubbing it over his face.

“Shit,” he said. “Yeah, sorry. That wasn’t actually a euphemism.”

“You don’t say?” Barba replied.

“Yeah, uh.” Sonny blew out a breath. “You know that case a month ago? The one with the smuggling angle to it?”

Barba looked confused. “Yes?”

“I was looking up some old case files for research and found one from back in 2008 where exotic animals got smuggled into the country,” Sonny said. “And I found this picture of former Captain Cragen holding an honest to God monkey that he’d found in a basketball.”

Barba blinked. “I see. And…that’s what you immediately thought about when you saw me?”

“What? No. No!” Sonny sat up. “No, that’s… Christ, no, look.” He took a deep breath. “See, during that investigation, the lieu’s partner was undercover and when Lieutenant Benson went to meet him, they were walked in on and she had to pretend to, ah, be a prostitute to make sure her partner didn’t get busted.” Sonny winced. “I remember thinking that I wouldn’t know what to do if that ever happened to me.”

“Well, you handled things pretty well, I’d say,” Barba said looking far too amused. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I crashed your cover.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Sonny said. “If anything, I should apologize for throwing all that…crap at you.”

Barba cocked his head to the side. “’Crap’?”

“Yeah,” Sonny said grabbing a pen and fiddling with it. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m not actually the smoothest guy in the room. Too much energy. I toned it down for ‘Simon’, and it seemed to work for the perps, but I doubt you were fooled for a second.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Barba said softly.

Sonny’s heart thudded in his chest and he lifted his eyes from his pen to meet Barba’s clear, green eyes that stared steadily back at him.

 _Oh, wow,_ was the only thing that echoed in Sonny’s brain as the impact of those eyes socked him somewhere near his solar plexus.

He held Barba’s gaze in dumbfounded silence until the other man blinked and cleared his throat.

“Tell me one thing, though,” Barba said, sounding serious. “Lie to me if you have to, but please promise me that you didn’t decide to go to law school because of John Grisham.”

Sonny laughed, throwing his head back. “No. No, I did not go to law school because of John Grisham. God’s own truth, counselor.”

“Well, thank heavens for small miracles,” Barba said grinning.

“Although, I have to admit to enjoying the movies,” Sonny added. 

Barba groaned. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

Sonny grinned and before he could stop himself, he found himself saying, “They’re on Amazon Prime right now, actually. All the good ones, I mean. From the 90s. I’ve been watching them when I get the time. Saved the best one for when I’d actually have a chance to watch it all.”

“ _The Pelican Brief_?” Barba asked.

“Hey, us beautiful, long-faced people gotta stick together,” Sonny said smiling. “Julia needs me, you know.”

“I’m sure she does,” Barba said shaking his head.

“I’m just saying,” Sonny took a breath and then said, “I’m actually not on call tonight and I had big plans for a pizza, some beer, and watching Julia run around New Orleans while Denzel covered DC. Feel like joining me?”

Barba’s very direct gaze found Sonny once again and this time Sonny felt it down to his toes.

“You can tell what they get wrong,” Sonny sing-songed ever so slightly, knowing he was an inch away from utter mortification as opposed to simply embarrassing himself.

Barba’s mouth quirked. “I have a few more plea deals to wade through tonight.”

“Understood,” Sonny said nodding. “Offer’s open, though. If you want.”

Barba made to say something, but closed his mouth, nodded once and running a hand down his tie, he nodded at Sonny and got up. Sonny started to slump in his chair, but stopped when Barba paused.

He turned his head to the side, and glanced at Sonny. His mouth lifted briefly as he said, “Text me your address.”

With a sharp stride, he headed out of the squad room, leaving a slack-jawed Sonny in his wake.

Sonny stared after him, and continued to stare until well after Barba had left his view. 

A grin slowly spread across Sonny’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> I've halfway talked myself into writing the next part involving a darkened living room, beer, and Sonny's couch. Do let me know if that's something folks would be interested in seeing.


End file.
